


Grief taught Love to fall like music from his tongue

by aconissa



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Best Friends, Fluff, Friendship, Happy Ending, Hickey and his drama doesn't feature at all sorry folks, Love Confessions, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Pining, References to Past Francis Crozier/Sophia Cracroft, Requited Love, Unrequited Love, briefly mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-08 00:25:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15231336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aconissa/pseuds/aconissa
Summary: In all their many years of friendship, Thomas Blanky had never felt at more of a loss than when Francis Rawden Moira Crozier was in love.A happy ending AU in which Good Guy Thomas Blanky realises his friend is head over heels for one Captain James Fitzjames, and does his awkward best to help him confess his feelings before they finally return home.One of three gifts for my gfgothmacsfor The Terror Fanworks Exchange 2018





	Grief taught Love to fall like music from his tongue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gothmacs](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=gothmacs).



> Title is an inversion of the line 'Love taught Grief to fall like music from his tongue' from Percy Bysshe Shelley's poem 'Adonais: An Elegy on the Death of John Keats'
> 
> This fic was written for my girlfriend [gothmacs](http://gothmacs.tumblr.com/), who I was lucky enough to get in The Terror Fanworks Exchange 2018 (organised by [pileofsith](http://pileofsith.tumblr.com/)). Her request was simply 'Blanky and Crozier + their friendship', but since we're both big Crozier/Fitzjames fans I turned it into a fic about their relationship from Blanky's perspective. 
> 
> I use the word 'Esquimaux' a few times in this fic, because that's the word used by both the characters in the show and in the original book (with that spelling). It's not a word I would use in real life to refer to Inuit people, but within the context of the fic it was the best option available. Please let me know if you have any critiques or suggestions regarding this, as I'm not Inuit myself.
> 
> Along with the other 2 fics I wrote for the exchange, this is the first time I've written fanfiction in 4 years. So apologies in advance for any mistakes/inconsistencies/general bad writing. Also I did a silly amount of unnecessary historical research for all of these fics because that's my field and I'm very picky about historical inaccuracies, but if you spot any I missed then do let me know.
> 
> Comments and kudos would mean the world!
> 
> [Find me on tumblr!](http://aconissa.tumblr.com/)

In all their many years of friendship, Thomas Blanky had never felt at more of a loss than when Francis Rawden Moira Crozier was in love.

The ice master remembered watching Crozier’s heart slowly close itself off more each time Miss Sophia Cracroft turned him down. He remembered the far-off look the captain would get in his eyes, the hollowness waiting beneath every expression, and the simmering frustration. It was different to the usual anger he harboured against the wealthy English toffs of the Discovery Service, the men who had passed him over again and again for being too poor, too outspoken, too Irish. Miss Cracroft’s rejection was somehow worse than years of scorn. Although they had never properly spoken about his feelings for her (women and love had never been a talking point for them), it was clear to Blanky that Crozier had never experienced love like that before.

Which is exactly how Thomas Blanky knew to recognise the symptoms of love in Francis Crozier when they started again. He knew how much his captain and friend cared for his crew and their wellbeing, yet he could see that very same agitation in Crozier now, despite their unfortunate situation. When it began he could not help but worry. Love was one thing when you were ashore on Royal Navy half-pay, with few responsibilities and no greater dangers than embarrassing yourself or breaking your own heart. But when you were the commanding officer of an increasingly disastrous arctic expedition with the crews of two ships under your protection, the stakes were too high to allow for distractions.

Worse yet, from what Blanky could see Crozier was already experiencing the more painful emotions from late in his last love affair. He looked tired, hollow, and frighteningly resigned to feeling that way for the foreseeable future. It was almost as if Sophia Cracroft herself was rejecting his marriage proposals all over again, but after endless months stuck in the Arctic ice that was utterly impossible.

 _So_ , Blanky thought, _who’s the old bastard fallen for this time, and why does he already look half-way to heartbreak?_

He spent his days watching Crozier carefully, studying his interactions with the people on their ship. His first thought had been Lady Silence, her being the only woman they had interacted with in months. But Crozier had showed nothing but respect (and often, frustration) to the Esquimaux woman. He was not the kind of man who would fall for a woman simply because she was the only one in sight, and their limited interactions had hardly been conducive to romance.

So that option quickly exhausted, Blanky turned to the men. He had spent enough years among sailors at sea to know that men could find comfort and affection with their own kind – far more often than people ashore would like to admit – and that comfort could often progress to love. Crozier had also made some comments over the years (all under the influence of his beloved whisky, of course) to lead Blanky to believe that he had some personal experience of such matters, even if only in the theoretical sense. Of course, Miss Cracroft had been the only person he seemed to seriously care for until this point. But Blanky knew better than to disregard the possibility that his captain and friend, despite all his practicality and worldly cynicism, had fallen in love with one of their fellow men.

Blanky began mentally cataloguing the other possibilities. It must of course be someone relatively close to the captain, purely because Crozier was not a naturally affable or open man, and was unlikely to form a romantic connection to someone with whom he had limited contact. On this basis, he disregarded all of the able seamen and petty officers immediately, perhaps with the exception of Thomas Jopson. Blanky knew how much Crozier cared for his steward, but he also knew that he saw the man as more of a son than a potential lover.

This left the officers of _Terror_ , half of whom he could eliminate immediately either on account of their distance from their captain, or due to Crozier’s own taste (Blanky liked to think he knew him well enough to be able to determine that). That left the three lieutenants, Doctor McDonald, and himself. Lieutenant Hodgson was a good man, but lacked some of the moral fortitude and courage which Crozier clearly valued. John Irving and Edward Little were both possibilities – both classically handsome, intelligent, good with the men. But they were almost two decades younger than their captain, so he placed them towards the bottom of the list. Blanky discounted himself immediately, as he had spent too much time observing Crozier’s pining expressions to have failed to notice if they were directed towards himself.

This left the assistant surgeon, Alexander McDonald. The man was the right age, of a good character, and his position as medical man meant that issues of hierarchical awkwardness and power imbalances were minimised. Blanky watched their limited interactions together, and although it was clear that Crozier respected the doctor (as virtually every man onboard did), the hollow look behind his eyes failed to brighten when they spoke to one another.

Several days after he had reached a dead end with Doctor McDonald, Blanky realised where he had gone wrong. He had always assumed the man he was searching for was a Terror rather than an Erebite, purely because Crozier had very limited interactions with the men of _Erebus_ , even as expedition commander. But he had forgotten one crucial person – _Erebus’s_ captain, James Fitzjames.

For all the years they had known each other, Crozier had harboured very little patience for the so-called ‘best and brightest’ of the Royal Navy, the men who came from families of money and influence, who knew exactly which elbows to rub and egos to flatter to rise through the ranks. As far as he knew, all of Fitzjames’s ‘heroic’ achievements _were_ genuine, but his boasting far exceeded his due. Crozier had spent the first few years of their expedition complaining about the then-Commander to Blanky in private, and every man on both ships knew how much they loathed one another. But after the death of Sir John, tensions had begun to ease between them. They could even be found having a drink together on occasion, and as their situation worsened Fitzjames seemed to lose much of his usual bluster and arrogance.

Of course, just as Blanky seemed to have found the answer to his conundrum, everything fell apart. Following the disastrous questioning of Lady Silence, Crozier and Fitzjames had come to blows. Then Blanky had come face to face with the _Thing_ from the ice ( _although_ , he thought wryly, _perhaps ‘leg to claws’ was a more apt description_ ) and narrowly escaped with his own life.

Understandably, the question of Crozier’s love life was the last thing on his mind as he recovered his strength and adjusted to life without his left leg. It appeared to be off the Captain’s own mind as well, because soon he was in the midst of the worst illness Blanky had ever seen him endure (but unlike the time he got dysentery in Van Diemen’s Land, this ‘illness’ was self-inflicted) and any time not spent begging God for one more bottle of whisky was spent hoping he survived long enough to get his men to safety.

When Blanky next saw Crozier, the man was standing deathly pale in the middle of the most extraordinary and insane Carnivale that either man had ever seen. Blanky had been drunk enough to almost ask Crozier the answer then and there, but Dr Stanley’s death and the resulting fire sobered him up and erased that plan from his mind.

Abandoning the ships soon afterwards was difficult for everyone, but hardest hit were the two captains. As Francis had told him, a ship was many things to her captain, and severing that relationship was a heartbreak in and of itself. Blanky noticed that both Francis and Fitzjames had made a point not to be present when one another left their ships for good, respecting the need for a captain’s dignity to be upheld at such an emotional moment.

Then came Terror Camp, and eventually their salvation. Crozier still looked distracted most of the time these days, but Blanky would almost have said that this was only due to their present situation if it wasn’t for the way he saw the captains interact. You would almost believe that the two had been fast friends from the first day of their expedition – they conferred on everything, eagerly and amicably, and more than once he saw them share a wry smile or laugh across the offices’ table. If sometimes Crozier’s gaze lingered a long while after Fitzjames had turned away, or he immediately sought out the younger man every time he entered a tent, Blanky said nothing. The time had passed for discussing love and heartbreak – no matter how much he cared for his friend, both men knew that the expedition and the wellbeing of their men came first.

Of course, Blanky couldn’t help but wonder if Captain Fitzjames shared Crozier’s feelings, but he did not know the other man nearly well enough to answer that question conclusively. Years of Fitzjames being called ‘the handsomest man in the Royal Navy’ and effortlessly charming officers’ wives and daughters at any ball or dinner party led Blanky to think that he did not. He expected that Crozier thought much the same, but he had no way of comforting the man on that front. As they all got slowly weaker and sicker, Fitzjames seeming particularly unwell, their search for salvation became all the more frantic.

Just as the captains’ fragile control seemed to stand on a precipice, they finally made contact with more Esquimaux. A small group of them were brought to the camp by Lieutenant Irving, and both Blanky and Crozier spent several hours speaking with their leader before they had a plan in place that would ensure they all lived. The men followed the Esquimaux back to their village on the south-eastern corner of King William Island, and there they bartered for enough fresh meat and supplies to ease the symptoms of scurvy in both crews. With the Esquimaux’s help and advice they were eventually able to cross the ice in the east and finds leads that brought them back up Ross Strait in their small whaleboats. There, the luck that had abandoned them for two long years finally returned in the form of several Royal Navy rescue ships let by Captain James Clark Ross himself.

It wasn’t until their slow journey back to England that Blanky finally got the chance to talk to his friend about a topic other than their survival. The crews had been split between several ships and were now eating well and regaining their strength. Although the ships could have sailed without additional help from the expedition men, the healthiest among them had already joined their rescuer’s crews as a way of showing their gratitude. Luckily, with the worst ice behind them and Captain Ross in charge of their particular ship, neither Blanky nor Crozier were called upon to help in any major capacity. With Captain Fitzjames aboard another ship with one of the contingents from _Erebus_ , there was nothing to stop Blanky from cornering Crozier and coming forward with the questions he had had months before.

One morning in June, the two men found themselves alone in Ross’s cabin over a late breakfast. Francis was looking healthier than Blanky had seen him in years, and he was happy to note that the Irishman had not touched a single drop of whisky since their arrival onboard. Blanky himself had finally had his splitting peg leg replaced with a new one, and thanks to that and the improved diet he finally felt like himself again.

He looked at Francis across the table, where the captain was drinking a sweet cup of tea – they had run out of sugar very early in the expedition, so all the men were making up for that loss now – and looking into the distance in thought. Blanky saw him smile to himself, and took the opportunity to speak.

‘I know that look, Francis. Thinking about someone special, are you?’

Crozier almost jumped at the interruption, then slowly began to turn pink. ‘I don’t know what could give you that idea, Thomas.’

Blanky grinned as the other man deliberately avoided his eye. ‘I know you better than almost anyone, Francis. And this isn’t the first time I’ve seen you look like that in recent months.’ Crozier said nothing in response. ‘Oh have it your way then. But I know you’re thinking about our dear Captain Fitzjames, and don’t try to deny it.’

Crozier looked at him sharply, watching his face as if to determine if the other man was bluffing or not. Clearly deciding that Blanky was serious, he sighed. ‘Fine. But how in hell did you know, Thomas?’

The ice master laughed. ‘Worked it out months ago. Back before I lost my leg. You had started to look the way you did when you fell for Franklin’s niece.’

Crozier winced. ‘Don’t remind me. That was _easy_ compared to this.’ He looked so weary for a moment, and Blanky’s expression softened when he realised how much his friend must have been struggling with this.

‘Why him, Francis?’ He asked, curiosity taking the better of him. ‘You always said you hated him. Called him “Franklin’s fucking lapdog” to me more times than I can count.’

The captain almost laughed. ‘I was just as surprised as you are. I thought I couldn’t bear to be around him, but that started to change after Franklin died. Like he was finally out of the man’s shadow and could start being a reasonable human being. Still drove me mad at times, but then you saw what he was like in those last few months. We spoke a lot towards the end, and it felt like I was seeing the real James at last.’ Now Crozier’s smile had turned unbelievably tender, something Blanky had rarely ever seen. ‘He told me things, Thomas. Things I could never tell you, for his sake, but they showed me the man he could truly be. The man he is.’

Blanky could not stop himself from smirking at the sound of love in his friend’s voice. He had not even seen Crozier like this with Sophia. And while he had never liked James Fitzjames in the years he had known him, he had to admit that Francis had a point about how he had changed. By the end of their expedition he had become a man worthy of respect, someone who was capable of true heroism and bravery that far exceeded war stories boasted over supper.

‘What are you going to do?’ Blanky asked, watching Crozier’s face fall slightly at the question.

‘What _can_ I do, Thomas? He may be a decent man now, but he will always be the star of the British Navy. A man like that is destined to marry some young heiress before long, just like Ross did.’ Crozier sounded like he’d been telling himself the same thing a thousand times over for a long time.

‘I can’t pretend to know the man well, but I saw the way you two behaved before we reached Ross Strait. He needed you as much as you needed him, any idiot could see that.’ He leaned forwards until Crozier looked up and met his eye. ‘We’ve been through hell, Francis. Sheer fucking _hell_. You deserve for something good to come out of that.’

‘We’ve escaped with our lives, Thomas. I would call that a good outcome.’

Blanky scoffed. ‘Well talk to him for the sake of my poor lost leg, then. I’ll need some good news to get me through the nights when I’m missing him.’

Crozier started chuckling, his eyes crinkling. Blanky joined him and the two men laughed like children until Captain Ross eventually entered the cabin and they were forced to calm down with as much dignity as they could muster.

Their journey home would take months yet, so over the next few days Blanky insisted that Crozier at least _attempt_ to tell Fitzjames about his true feelings. After losing so many men to the Arctic and to that _Thing_ , Blanky wanted his captain and friend to have something happy to bring back to their lives in England. He doubted either Crozier or himself would ever sail again – they had suffered horrors before in their careers, but nothing quite like this – so the time had come for their happy endings. And focusing on securing Crozier’s was much easier than trying to devise his own.

Blanky knew the dangers of men loving men, especially men in the captains’ positions, but Francis Crozier had never been one to follow convention. Fitzjames had been the opposite until recently, but now the ice master suspected that he would struggle to return to his old life after everything they had been through.

Two weeks had passed since their conversation before either Blanky or Crozier saw Fitzjames again. _Erebus’s_ former captain came aboard to take dinner with the officers of Ross’s ship as well as their guests, and the night was happily spent telling stories (with far less boasting) over a deliciously unspoiled, lead-free feast. Given the lateness of the hour, it was decided that Fitzjames would stay the night aboard their ship rather than having one of his men row out and then take him back to his own. The three captains, the ice master and Lieutenant Edward Little took this opportunity to retrieve more than a few bottles of port from Ross’s stores and enjoy themselves in his cabin.

Blanky noticed that Crozier drank very sparingly, but that was clearly having no negative effect on his mood. He was laughing raucously alongside the other men, looking more comfortable than he ever had done over dinner with Sir John in the first year of their voyage. More importantly Blanky also noticed that Fitzjames, although drinking more than his friend, was quite obviously spending the majority of the evening sitting with his chair a little _too_ close to Crozier’s and almost exclusively speaking to him. He wondered if either Ross or Little had observed this behaviour, but the two men had found a common interest in brass rubbing (of all things) and were discussing it at length. Though it left him with no one to talk to, Blanky decided that he would much rather leave them to it.

Taking a sip of his port (and wishing it were something stronger) Blanky was careful to appear occupied by his thoughts so as not to disturb the two captains in their conversation. Without trying, he realised that he had started to make judgements on the way Crozier was interacting with Fitzjames – thoughts like ‘lean in closer, you fool, he clearly wants you to’ and ‘pour him another glass Francis, be courteous for once in your fucking life’ came to his mind unbidden. Eventually he decided that he was probably being a little _too_ invested in his friend’s romantic adventures, and announced to the room that he was going above decks for a walk.

Blanky’s thigh ached where it slotted into his wooden leg, but it felt good to stretch it out after so long sitting down. There were few lamps lit on the main deck, as the moon was close to full and the waters calm enough that very few men were required on watch. He pretended not to see the marine and seaman sharing a bottle of rum near the quarterdeck, and instead he walked away from them towards the bowsprit. He sat on a barrel in the shadow of some rigging and pulled out his pipe, carefully preparing the bowl and tobacco for a much-needed smoke.

Thanks to the full meal and the port, he had started to doze off where he sat. When he awoke he had no idea how much time had passed since he left the captain’s cabin, but he thanked God that they were finally far enough south that he could sit out in the open air without risking frostbite or worse.

As he was pondering whether or not to have another smoke, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps and giggles. Expecting the seaman and marine to appear around the corner at any moment, he was preparing to scold them for neglecting their duties when he realised with a jolt that one of the giggling men was Francis Crozier.

Panic seized him for a moment, because he knew the second man could only be James Fitzjames. But before they could awkwardly stumble on him and potentially ruin Crozier’s progress, they appeared on the other side of the bowsprit, across from where Blanky sat in shadow. Neither man noticed the ice master watching them, and knowing he had no way of leaving without drawing attention to himself – _damn this wooden leg to hell_ – he settled in for what was sure to be an interesting conversation.

The two captains were talking quietly, both leaning close together against the railing of the fo'c'sle. The foresail provided them with shade and privacy from the other men on deck – Blanky being the obvious exception – which seemed to have been their intention. Fitzjames was smiling widely as he spoke, leaning in towards Crozier to make some joke that had the Irishman giggling all over again. Blanky had known Crozier many years but he would never quite have described his laugh as a _giggle_ before – clearly Fitzjames had quite the effect on him. If he ever admitted to being present at this moment, then he would make sure to tease Francis about it at length later.

Blanky could see Fitzjames swaying slightly, appearing to be unsteady on his feet, and he had to hold himself back from calling out a warning as the man tipped forward into Crozier’s chest. If he had not seen the look of determination on the younger man’s face at the last moment, then he would have sworn that the fall was entirely the fault of overexcitement and drink. But he had to give Fitzjames some credit – it was a very effective way to get them closer together. He saw the captain apologise to Crozier with a smile, taking his time to plant his hands on the other man’s shoulders and push himself up, though only far enough that they were now standing with their faces much closer than was socially acceptable under any conditions.

Blanky almost laughed at the look of breathless shock on Crozier’s face, like a deer surprised by a hunter in the middle of a quiet forest – had the deer also been head over heels in love with said hunter at the time. Crozier spoke quietly, saying something that looked an awful lot like the name ‘James’, before Fitzjames was suddenly pressing forward again (quite steadily this time) and the two men were kissing.

Ice Master Thomas Blanky was not an awkward man for the most part, generally able to find any way to laugh at any situation he found himself in, but in that moment he wished he could melt back against the rigging and disappear. As much as he had wanted Crozier to find his feelings returned, Blanky thought desperately that he would do literally anything to erase the soft moan of pleasure he heard his friend then make from his memory. Crozier had wrapped one arm around Fitzjames’s waist and was holding the other man against him, kissing him eagerly and barely bothering to stop for air.

Blanky was almost getting concerned for their physical wellbeing by the time they finally pulled apart, their cheeks tinged pink in the moonlight and breaths steaming in the air between them. Both men took a moment to recover before their faces were splitting into wide grins, evidently relieved to have found their feelings reciprocated after all this time. Now they were speaking quickly and happily to each other, too quiet and too fast for Blanky to understand a word. He could easily assume what was being said from the looks on their faces, however, and he started to feel like he was intruding on something far too intimate to be seen. This was somehow worse than seeing them kiss – the look of absolute love on Crozier’s face just then was so raw that Blanky knew no one but James Fitzjames was ever meant to see it.

He did his best to turn away and start planning an escape route, before the laughter of the seaman and the marine rose loudly above their position by the taffrail and make the two captains break apart. They looked towards the other end of the ship and then back towards one another, saying something quickly before Crozier started to walk back down from the fo'c'sle and towards the hatch to the lower decks, followed closely by a still-smiling Fitzjames.

Blanky let out a long sigh of relief, and waited several minutes more to ensure he would not run into the two men on his journey back below decks. As happy as he was for both of them, he was unsure he was in ready to pretend he hadn’t just seen them confess their undying love for each other (or, so he assumed, something to that effect). Taking the ladder carefully, he reached the bottom and moved quickly down the passageway leading to the captain’s cabin.

Neither man was anywhere to be seen once he re-entered the room, although Ross and Little were still deep in conversation (and clearly drunker than before). Dropping heavily into a seat across the table from them, Blanky pulled the fullest bottle of port towards himself and took a long swig straight from it.

‘So, lads,’ he said loudly, both men turning towards him. ‘Brass rubbings, eh?’

**Author's Note:**

> I love writing about Fitzjames and Crozier's relationship, and I have a second fic about them in the works (this time from their POV). If anyone's interested in reading future fics about them then let me know, and feel free to pass along any requests!
> 
> Some historical notes: I tried to find a solution that made some historical sense, but I have no knowledge of whether there were rescue ships in or around Ross Strait at this time. That's mostly for convenience. Also you will have noticed that Irving succeeds in bringing the Inuit group back to camp without Hickey killing him. It wouldn't make sense to spend time explaining that away within the fic, but let's assume he was put on a different hunting party or had planned a later mutiny and just messed it up somehow. Regardless, you can rest assured that at some point on their journey home he escapes into a foreign port and starts that new life he wanted. Bye bye Cornelius
> 
> And as I said earlier, please do leave comments/kudos! I'd love to hear what everyone thought


End file.
